You too?


Age: 31 | Height: 5'3" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#1
She wondered if she had ever been a religious person.

The spiritual did not call to her as it might others - she did not find herself particularly impressed simply by the gods and spirits not only existing but apparently being rather friendly after a fashion, rather viewing it as a complex new natural law which, when faced with the opportunity to observe it first hand, she couldn't say no to this glaring opportunity.

If anyone asked, it was like the shrine wanted to be found. She didn't go looking, she'd have insisted upon interrogation. It practically came to her.

In her efforts to grow more familiar with the shelves she had simply stumbled upon it, and it didn't take a genius (idiot) to find the handholds, or figure out how the shelves pulled away. She she'd been stood here a moment, a very long moment, stood here staring at the orb, gnawing at her lip as her fingers stroked the place between her eyebrows lightly, opposite hand drumming against her elbow impatiently.

The more she looked at the shrine, the more the dust bothered her. How it looked so disorganized... so... forgotten. She fussed, picking up what looked to be a carved wooden figure of a plant surrounded by intricately carved vines and thorns and began to gently buff away the ages, blowing the dust from the fine grooves and niches as her brow furrowed.

The spiritual did not call to her as it might others, but the sentimental? That was a siren song. "You too, yeah? I can't just leave you like this, can I?"
Vynter White


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#2
Vynter
He had managed to finally find himself some clothes. They didn't fit the greatest, and he still didn't understand what their purpose was, but he wore them because he found people reacted to him more positively when he did. He didn't remember how long he had been walking, it could have been hours or days, but he was fascinated by all that surrounded him, and in this new form he was so eager to experience everything. His steps were still silent, because despite the benefits he couldn't bring himself to put on shoes. The feeling of air between his mini hooves felt nice, and the earth beneath his soles was comforting.

It didn't take him long to come across the Shrine, it looming over him with its ominous presence. Unphased he trudged right on through, not realizing the significance of its standing. The smell of dust and paper overwhelmed his nose, and he almost thought because of the strength of it his old sense of smell had returned. Upon realizing he was merely surrounded by old pieces of literature he cast that thought aside. Making his way between the looming shelves he would sometimes peek over them, looking to see what might lay behind them.

Before he knew it he had reached the epicenter, and there in front of him stood a woman holding something close. He moved silently, approaching from behind and looming over her to curiously inspect her find. He found himself leaning forward for a closer look, his fingers twitching in hopes they might move to grasp it. But he was distracted by the dark orb that was perched before them, nestled on a lonely pedestal waiting to be touched. His legs carried him to it impulsively, icy eyes filled with intrigue as his hand reached out in an attempt to brush his fingers along the side of the smooth surface.

Coding base by Sky!


Age: 31 | Height: 5'3" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#3
She hadn't noticed his arrival until it was too late, until his hand was reaching out over her shoulder for the shiny black glass orb on the stand in front of them. A number of thoughts entered her mind - the first a pang of terror, clouding her vision at first, causing her to back immediately into the giant towering behind her. This issued in an even louder pang, the sort that made your chest clench and your heart flutter. The sort that made you feel like you might actually be dying.

The witch went rigid, hugging the figurine to her chest protectively as she stared at the grasping fingers reaching for the reflective surface. Oh no. This third pang of terror was like some sort of emotional second wind, like getting so drunk you feel sober. Where fear had initially paralyzed her now it ignited a terrific purpose in her. The sphere, ominously tucked away in the dark and dank shelves here didn't seem to have been disturbed for quite some time. It looked to her like the detonator of a bomb, set to call forth something divine that she simply wasn't sure she was ready to meet. She could not let him touch it.

Mel's left arm shot out as she threw it into his without much of a physical impact at all. "Don't!" She hissed, still clutching the plant figure close as she craned her neck to look up at the invader, her right eye blazing with indignation from a pinched scowl as finally Mel's emotional wheel of fortune settled on petty jealous rage, not for any good reason but that he had tried to touch the spooky ball before her. Rude.

That all meant jack when realized she was practically looking at the ceiling to see his face, staring up at someone far too big for his britches in a very literal sense. "Fuck me!" She clapped her hand over her mouth as she whisper-screamed, not quite catching the first of it but managing to muffled most of the "me" with her palm, the vowel drawing out in a terrified, wordless squeal, albeit quiet. If the shrine wasn't divine, the books certainly were!

Vynter Edrei
Vynter White


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#4
Vynter
He had startled her by accident, an occurrence that was becoming the norm for him. What he didn't expect was for her smaller frame to fall back into his out of shock. What he also didn't expect was for his arm to instinctively wrap around her midsection, as if holding her close in comfort. She looked up at him, with wide doe eyes that utterly fascinated him. His current task forgotten her plea fell on deaf ears, his hand falling away to rest at his side. His head moved to inspect her more, expressionless but inquisition evident in those icy orbs.

Her eyes were her most prominent feature, long lashes and one seeming to be clouded over. Was she blind in her right eye? It didn't seem to be entirely capturing him. Her hair was dark and long, falling over his arms and around her shoulders as her face continued to look at his. But what made him take pause was the discoloration of her pale skin along the right side of her face. It was bruised, and it seemed it was recent. What had caused such an injury? Long fingers reached up to her cheek, delicately caressing the bone and moving along her jawline. His face, although held no emotion, was soft, careful, and his eyes searched hers for answers as he continued to explore her face.

Were there any herbs around here? Perhaps a little anica would help? His father would often use it on his legs whenever he'd bang them up trying to fly. He hadn't seen any in his travels, then again he hadn't been looking. Should he go look now and come back? Or would she not accept it? Although it was recent, it couldn't have been too recent, after all it was slightly faded around the edges. Maybe he could find a cold compress to place on it while she waited for him to find some herbs. His mind continued to run around in a circle of should and shouldn't, all while cradling her close to his chest and tenderly stroking her cheek.

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#5
Of all the things she had anticipated, this was not one of them. She attempted to remember just how she had gotten here, into this predicament, finding the timeline of events a bit blurry and uncertain, like a car wreck. Exactly like a car wreck.

If only she knew what a car wreck was. Then she might have had an adequate metaphor for her attempt to do the potentially life threatening and mystical thing because this was an absolute car wreck.

And yet that second-wind terror had abandoned her, Mel stood wrapped protectively around the figurine, her expression one of bewildered confusion as she found herself being stroked like some sort of tiny adorable creature. How insulting! She longed in a deep and primal way to be free, tension hardening the scant muscle beneath her skin and boring but infinitely better fitting clothing. She tucked her chin as the petting continued, looking around for some answers, maybe some external source of resolve. She wasn't entirely positive that she wanted help, the secretive nature of the shrine putting her on guard - with the recent political upheaval she worried now more than ever about all those laws she didn't quite know. What if it had been intentionally forgotten? She was doing better, yes - worlds better than she had been when she arrived, her injuries mostly gone save for the deepest and darkest of bruises, though that didn't mean that it looked good.

Pretty she might have been, but now she looked more like some sort of cautionary tale about maybe not going on that big adventure. The face was as good as it could be, much of it healed though her once corrupted flesh had struggled to accept the help. It was a drawn out process in the end, more mundane than not, leaving her with bits and pieces yet on the mend, the eye the worst of it in her opinion, acting as a major source of her major frustrations, obviously and hideously sightless in her opinion, the pupil vast and dark, nearly engulfing her entire iris. The bone around it had mostly knit, as had the wicked gash that trailed from her hairline down across her cheek and nose but the injury had forever, ever so slightly, ruined that part of her face in a way. Turning the eyepatch down from where it had flipped up on her forehead during the brief and one-sided struggle, the staring eye she'd stitched into the patch in silver thread glittered and winked in the dim light.

Her patience wore out about then, her expression hardening as she grabbed his hand, giving it a firm but not painful squeeze and pressed it back into his chest as a wordless but unmistakable order for him to keep his hands to himself. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if only because this just seemed like another day in paradise after learning of dozens of accounts of others arrival here. If only because he didn't seem to dangerous. If only because a struggle might damage the shrine or otherwise upset the god. "Don't touch anything unless I tell you. Do you understand? Don't touch and you must be quiet-" she pressed a finger to her lips, shushing him as she delivered her instructions in a low whisper. Meanwhile, the figurine was beginning to bite into her palm and belly.

With a grunt of effort she pulled her hand and the plant thing free, inspecting it closely for damage before dusting the place where it had sat and returning it there.

Vynter
Vynter White


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#6
Vynter
It seemed his abrupt actions had caused an adverse affect yet again, her small palm grasping his own and sending it into his chest. He left it there, watching for what she might say or do next. The patch that had once been on her eyes was flapping as she spoke, going on about how he mustn't touch anything unless she tell him to. He was beginning to sense a theme with all of his encounters with strangers. Letting his hand fall to the side he obeyed, his other arm still curled around her waist. Since she had not pulled away, he assumed she was fine with this.

It was only when she went to place the figurine back did his arm release its grip, and once distance was created he increased it by taking a step backwards. His eyes began to survey the rest of the dim room, searching every nook and cranny to stow away in his mind for later. This place was interesting, and although he couldn't touch anything he could still enjoy himself by looking. So that's what he began to do, walking past her silently and perusing the shelves to see if there was anything of interest. His fingers often twitched when he found something particularly fascinating, but he would pull back and look in the woman's direction to show he was following the rules. Once he'd made a circle around the place, he returned to her side to wait for whatever she was waiting for.

Melinoë

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#7
With the figurine safely back in place the witch began to plot her grand escape, only to feel her strange visitor disengage her, pulling away and perusing the shelves, having taken her command quite literally in a way that she found just a tiny bit endearing. Automatically, she began to smooth her clothing and hair back into place, sweeping her hair back from her face as her scowl softened, settling in bewildered observation. Bless him, she thought, raising a hand to her face to disguise the barest hint of a smile, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

To say the least, it put her in a better mood, watching him for a moment, following his gaze as she tried to make out what had caught his interest, her hands folded and resting on the edge of the shrine. She leaned forward and back to better follow his field of view, returning to her task only as he stepped away. Wetting her lips she grimaced, wondering if she should follow him, though thought better of it, though she still held a streak of concern in mind that somehow this was illegal. All the more reason to stop worrying about the curious man and simply hope that he had gotten tired of hugging her and found someone else to wrap his tremendously long arms around.

She continued, finding herself deeply engrossed in her work, though not once had mustered the courage to touch the sphere, so that it remained the only thing with a layer of dust on it on top of the shrine when her strange visitor returned. Looking up she wiped off her hands, humming appreciatively and even smiling as she leaned in to whisper "thank you". Still, she looked in the direction he had arrived from for a split moment, squinting into the dim corridors of books, listening for the approach of boots for only a moment of open mistrust which she nodded away.

"Are you new?" She queried, folding a hand to her chest where she toyed with the necklace of two fish circling one another.

Vynter
Vynter White


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#8
Vynter
Her words had instantly drawn him back to her, like a moth to flame seeking the light of the sun. Taking long strides he was standing over her, tilting his head as if to verify she was speaking to him. If she was, he didn't really know how to answer. There could be many things he was new to, whether it be this shrine, this experience, or even this world. He didn't know which one she was referring to, and thus decided to simply nod his head in answer. It was unlikely a lie to stay he was new to everything here.

Letting his gaze fall to the untouched orb again, he felt himself drawn to it once again, his fingers itching to cradle it close to his palm. He half-stepped in its direction, only to take pause and instead look back at her. She said not to touch anything, but hadn't she touched something else earlier? Why was she allowed to hold things and he wasn't? Especially with how nervous she seemed to do so. Like an impatient child his eyes kept staring back at the artifact then back to her, as if that would distract him long enough for her to do something. The entire time his face remained stoic, stance relaxed and lumbering even when he was curiously exploring.

Melinoë I'm sorry it's so blegh but you needed a reply T-T

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#9
Mel watched with a halting breath as he again moved for the orb, her face blanching as she braced herself for what might come - that he paused had surprised her, winning a tired, weary little smile. "There's gods in there, maybe." She pointed at the orb, speaking softly. "A man, Jigano, he told me that there were gods, and that I might speak to them at a shrine. I think that this is one." Sniffing a breath she stepped closer as well, then overtook him, reaching the shrine in the bookcases now dust-free save the orb.

She waited, turning back to him, inviting him closer with a beckoning wave. "Do you want to pray with me?" His eagerness had won her over finally from her misgivings, her inhibitions fading as she stood over as she reached a small, scarred hand out to him. Her voice dropped as her pulse thundered in her ears, both terrified and thrilled by the prospect of interacting with fickle divinity. "We'll both place a hand on it and pray for..."

Uncertain if she was one to pray or not, she did not know what to ask a god for. Once she had begged and eventually wrenched power from the unholy and arcane, but never had she prayed for it. The concept seemed frightening and occult, laughable considering the horrors that sometimes surfaced when stray memories returned again to her. She looked about, seeking help from the walls of books. "We'll pray for knowledge." She looked to him as though she expected him to agree.

Vynter No problem! <3


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